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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24142792">Perfect</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notanerd04/pseuds/notanerd04'>notanerd04</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Jagged Little Pill - Morissette &amp; Ballard/Morissette/Cody, Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aah, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jagged Little Pill, Kid Harley Keener, Perfect, Poor Harley, Protective Harley Keener, Songfic, This is my first work, but only if you interpret it as such, harley's dad is a shitty person, i guess, idk how to tag, im sorry, one part can be read as rape so potential trigger there, this is big sad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:22:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24142792</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notanerd04/pseuds/notanerd04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the song Perfect from Jagged Little Pill, the musical version.  Triggers for graphic child abuse, alcoholism, kinda rape but only if you read it as such.</p><p>Harley needs to be perfect because he knows what happens when he isn't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener &amp; Harley Keener's Father</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Perfect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, world! This is my first time posting anything I've ever written into the world, so I'm kind of scared!  But no one will read this so it's fine.  Basically this song just reminded me of how I think about Harley's relationship with his dad, so I decided to write it.  Warning, this is sad.  It does not have a happy ending.  Eventually, in cannon it does, so we can all take solace in that fact.  I feel like a fool writing this.  Enjoy, though you probably won't.</p><p>I did use the musical version of the song for the lyrics because I listen to it all the time.  I love Derek Klena, and he sings it really, really well.  Here's the link if anyone wants to listen to it while they read.  All of the spoken lines are the lyrics.</p><p>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWxTFu7XGQ4</p><p>Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any of the characters, the world they exist in, or the song used.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sometimes is never quite enough.”</p><p>Harley sat on the couch, head looking down towards the white ribbon crumpled in his hands.  Third.  He didn’t win.  He wasn’t good enough. His father’s voice cut into his brain, carving out chunks of his self-esteem.  He couldn’t always win, but that wasn’t good enough.  He didn’t deserve anything unless he won it.</p><p>“If you’re flawless, then you’ll win my love.”</p><p>This time, it wasn’t just the words that stung.  His hand reflectively reached up to touch the cheek his dad had slapped.  He closed his eyes, begging the white-hot tears not to fall down his face.  Weakness was pathetic.  If he was weak, he could never be a man, he could never be loved.  He silently thanked someone when his father walked away toward the kitchen, undoubtedly to get a beer.  His father needed to wash his pathetic son’s failure from his memory.  Harley didn’t blame him.</p><p>~~~~~~</p><p>Another race.  His last failure still fresh in his mind, Harley knew he had to win this one.  He had to prove himself worthy of his father’s love.</p><p>“Don’t forget to win first place.”</p><p>The cold words that were spoken to him that morning echoed through his brain like thunder.  Win.  First place.  You’ll be loved.  Flawless.  You must be flawless.  His father’s reminder was the first thing he had said to him since the last one.</p><p>And so, Harley ran.  He flung his body forward, not caring if he hurt himself.  Pain was temporary.  His father’s love was forever.  His feet pounded against the track.  Blood rushed through his ears.  He could only see the finish line.  He crossed it.  Cheers erupted.  He won.  He won.  He won.</p><p>He smiled as his blue ribbon was handed to him.  His eyes sought out his father’s in the crowd.  He couldn’t find them.  Where was he?  The win didn’t count if he wasn’t there.  </p><p>“Don’t forget to keep that smile on your face.”</p><p>The gruff voice in his ear caused Harley’s shoulders to immediately tighten.  He smiled so hard and so long his face hurt.  But he had won, so it was ok.</p><p>~~~~~~</p><p>Harley had won, so he thought that it was ok.  So why was he sitting on the couch as his father approached?  He was drunk.  There was a dark glint in his eye, and pure ice in his voice as he asked,</p><p>“How long before you screw it up?”</p><p>Confusion.  Harley was confused.  He won.  He fixed it.  He smiled.  The show was performed, the prize collected, the beer bought.</p><p>And just like that, his father turned and walked out of the room.  Harley stayed frozen on the couch.  The pounding faded, but then it was back it was back it was back.</p><p>“And how many times do I have to tell you to hurry up?”</p><p>Harley gasped sharply as the large, warm hand wrapped around his shirt and pulled him up, dangerously close to the soft skin of his exposed neck.  Too close.  Too much touch.  But Harley didn’t control that, just like he didn’t control the tears that began to flow.</p><p>Loud sobs.  The sobs you feel in your stomach.  The sobs that make it seem like you’ll puke up all your organs.</p><p>Two perfect people upstairs.  Two perfect girls who shouldn’t know that he wasn’t perfect.</p><p>Sting.  A slap.  One he should have seen coming.  </p><p>Stupid. </p><p>“With everything I do for you, the least you could do is keep quiet.”</p><p>Quiet.  Silent.  Harley could do that.  Harley was a winner.  Harley would win his father’s affection.  Harley would keep quiet.</p><p>~~~~~~</p><p>Hedidn’tlikeithedidn’tlikeithedidn’tlikeit.</p><p>“Be a good boy.”</p><p>Nostopnostopnostop.</p><p>“You’ve got to try a little harder.”</p><p>Hedidhisbesthedidhisbesthedidhisbest.</p><p>“That simply wasn’t good enough to make us proud.”</p><p>And it was over.</p><p>~~~~~~</p><p>Harley was running.  As fast as he could.  He raced around the track, feet pounding into the earth as he did his best to make his father proud.  Why did he run?</p><p>“I’ll live through you, I’ll make you what I never was!”</p><p>Ah yes.  To win his father’s love, he had to be better than what he was.  What they both were.</p><p>“If you’re the best, well, maybe so am I, compared to him, compared to her!”</p><p>He wasn’t the best.  He needed to be.  So he ran faster.  Pain was temporary.  His father’s love was forever.  And to be loved, he needed to be the best.  No one saw, no one could see how it hurt.  And then a beep.  He could stop.  Did he do it?  His father’s face said otherwise.</p><p>“I’m doing this for your own damn good, you’ll make up for what I blew!”</p><p>Harley blew it.  He knew it.  So his body wasn’t surprised when the hurt came.  He barely even moaned as the first punch to his stomach threw him back against the wall.  Keep quiet, of course.  He didn’t fight back.  It would make it worse, and he could already barely take the harsh slap of the belt across the bare skin of his back.  The corner of the wall and his head were already good friends, and they became more acquainted that night.</p><p>There was one person who blamed him (himself) when despite his best efforts, the tears started streaming down his face.  </p><p>A taunt.</p><p>“What’s the problem?”</p><p>A cruel laugh.</p><p>“Why are you crying?”</p><p>~~~~~~</p><p>“Be a good boy.”</p><p>Good boys were winners.  He had to win.</p><p>“Push a little further now.”</p><p>Yes.  That’s how to win.  To push.  Push your body as it runs, get pushed into a wall. </p><p>Get pushed into a wall, into the floor, slap across the face and pain.</p><p>No, focus.</p><p>He didn’t focus.  He lost.</p><p>Bad boy, bad child.  No love.  Just pain.</p><p>“That wasn’t fast enough to make us happy.”</p><p>His father wasn’t happy.  Harley wasn’t happy.</p><p>Imagine what happy really was.</p><p>~~~~~~</p><p>Another talk on the couch with a third-place white ribbon clutched in his hands.  He wasn’t good enough.  He wasn’t fast enough.  They weren’t proud.  They weren’t happy.</p><p>They didn’t all even know what Harley’s life was like.</p><p>Two perfect girls.  A mom and a baby sister who deserved the world.</p><p>A dad who gave it to them by taking it from Harley.  Not that he minded.</p><p>“We’ll love you just the way you are.”</p><p>That didn’t make sense.  His dad didn’t say that.</p><p>“If you’re perfect…”</p><p>That was right.  </p><p>And he closed his eyes and prepared for the pain.</p><p>He failed too many times.</p><p>He would never be perfect.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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